This-n-That: Drabbles, One-shots & Prompts
by Nwfanmega
Summary: Just a spot for random work.
1. The Little Things

**A/N** : This is from a prompt on weretheoneswhowrite's tumblr page about "Chores with Carchonne." This little prompt is continued in chapter 11 (Part I) of The Season of Light. Thanks for reading!

* * *

She sensed Carl's presence even before he reached the threshold of their sun-drenched kitchen. Keeping her back turned, Michonne vigorously washed her hands, pausing for a moment to look through the large casement window framing the farmhouse sink. Smiling, she glimpsed Rick chasing a giddy Judith through the flower beds she and Carl had planted several weeks prior; colorful blooms just beginning to erupt from the previously barren patch of earth.

For a moment, she considered calling out to them not to trample all their hard work. But the sweet sound of Rick's laughter, coupled with Judith's blissful squeals changed her mind. They could always plant more flowers.

Shaking her wet hands over the sink, Michonne pulled a clean towel from the drawer to her right, quickly drying her hands before hanging the damp towel on the hook beside the stove. Turning to face Carl, she took in his adorably anxious face.

"Gonna just stand there?" she asked, walking towards the kitchen's center island. "Enid's meal won't cook itself. You want to be a better cook, make it more 'fun' and less of a 'chore' right?"

Knowing how much this small, yet thoughtful act meant to Carl, Michonne gave him a moment to relax a bit. Her boy always wanted everything to be perfect. She'd do her best to make it so.

She watched as Carl slowly inhaled through pursed lips and nodded, before making his way towards her. Standing on the other side of the island, he reached down to pull out a stool from beneath the countertop, cringing slightly as its legs noisily scraped against the ceramic tiled floor.

"Ok then, let's get started on your first lesson," Michonne said, clapping her hands and gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

All of this was for Enid. She was practical, like Michonne. But both also enjoyed those small, kind tokens of affection the men in their lives eagerly laid at their feet. Enid was grateful for anything he brought her and she always let him know.

 _It's nice to know you were thinking about me because, I was thinking about you too, she often said.  
_  
He looked up at Michonne, instantly finding in her eyes the calming salve he often sought there. She gave him a reassuring look before ducking down to pull out two large plastic cutting boards from a drawer under the island. Placing them on the countertop in front of her, along with two chef's knives, she created work stations for both of them.

"Lesson number one," she began. "Always wash your hands. I don't need extra seasoning in my food!"

Chuckling, Carl rose from the stool, making his way towards the sink.

"Before I forget, lesson one and a half is always and will forever be: clean as you go," she declared, turning towards him as he neared her side of the island. "You will not bring a mess to my kitchen."

"I know, I know," he mumbled. "We cook clean, we're clean cooks."

"Exactly," she replied, opting to ignore the dramatic eye-roll he gave her as he walked by.

Taking time to thoroughly wash his hands under a hawk-eyed Michonne, he theatrically held both up for her inspection. Satisfied, she handed him a fresh towel and waited patiently while he dried his hands, before beckoning him towards his assigned cutting board.

"Now what?" he asked, picking up his knife.

"Now we get organized," she said. "Put down the knife. That's lesson number three."

* * *

"Thank goodness for libraries with central European cookbooks," she stated, looking over the meat, vegetables, and spices neatly lined up in front of them.

Carl snickered, noting how ridiculous such a request must have sounded to the run crew. But Michonne had been adamant. Once procured, the two of them spent a few nights poring over recipes. Carl dog-earing the ones that sounded similar to what Enid had described, while Michonne figured out approximants for ingredients they didn't have and wouldn't be able to locate.

"C'mon Ma, can't you just do it and I watch this time?" Carl asked, peeking through the thick curtain of hair obscuring his face from her. "I want it to be perfect and I don't think it will be if I make it."

"And what do I always say about perfection?" Michonne asked, letting her knife hover over the cutting board as she gave him her full attention.

His affectionate 'Ma', a residual effect of Judith's incessant 'Mama' made her heart swell. It warmed her very soul.

"Perfection is the enemy of the good," he muttered, unconvincingly.

"Precisely!" she exclaimed. "You should know by now the best way to learn is by doing."

"I'm pretty sure I'm capable of learning by observation only," he said, stifling a grin.

"Says the boy who couldn't make his bed until I showed him five times," she retorted.

"That's because hospital corners are not a necessity," Carl smugly replied. "Even dad says so."

"And what actually happens?" Michonne smirked. "I _still_ get your dad to do it anyway. Besides, if you want to make sure she knows how you feel, you put in the time, put in the effort. That's what she'll remember."

"But I'm no good at it," Carl said, laying his hands flat on either side of the cutting board. "You and dad said so, and even Judith gets an attitude when it's my turn to make dinner."

"Don't give me that," Michonne playfully huffed. "You know good and well we're only joking. And Judith? We all know our darling Judy-bear's opinions go wherever the wind blows."

"Yeah, she's not very loyal, is she?" Carl cackled, picking up his knife. "Well, maybe to you. She'd sell the rest of us out in a heartbeat, but you're safe."

"True," Michonne said, sharing his mirth. "This is about making an effort to do something meaningful for someone you care about. It's the little things, those small acts of kindness that bring some relief to a wounded heart. I'm proud you came up with this and Enid will be too."

"What do I do now?" he asked, thankful for her advice.

"Here you go," she said, handing him an onion.

Throwing the large sphere into the air with one hand and catching it in the other, he studied Michonne as she expertly began dicing the venison on her cutting board into perfectly even cubes.

"Should I really be the one chopping the onions? I'm working with one eye here. I'd be in a world of hurt here if we were suddenly attacked and I couldn't see…"

She snorted, looking up to catch the look of mischief playing across his face. Shaking her head, she watched Carl shrug and get down to business. They worked in silence for a few minutes, before Michonne looked up to catch a sniffling Carl use his sleeve to wipe his eye.

"Ok, ok," she said, pulling away from her cutting board and moving over to the sink to once again wash her and dry her hands before making her way to Carl's station. Carl dropped the onion into her open palm, before moving to the other cutting board.

Carl smiled to himself. He hadn't been that bothered by the onions. He just didn't want to do it.

"Oh, and don't think I don't know you're half faking it with the onions," she smugly stated. "And you see what I did there?" she asked, using her knife to point at the flawless cubes of meat she'd already prepped. "Don't mess it up."

"Didn't we just agree that perfection is the enemy of the good?" he queried.

"Touché mon ami," she laughed. "That was _your_ perfection. You're not allowed to mess with mine."

* * *

"Tell me the story again?" Michonne quietly asked, watching as Carl pouring a few tablespoons of sunflower oil into the large stock pot on the stove.

"We were driving back to Alexandria when Enid got pretty quiet," Carl began, turning the stove to high. "She'd remembered it was the anniversary of her parents'… you know. Said this was the first year she hadn't started thinking about it weeks before. It threw her off."

Michonne nodded. You want to forget, yet you pray you never do.

"Her grandma, she called her 'Nagymama', lived with them since she could remember. On special occasions, she would make Enid this Hungarian dish she insisted was 'stew' but had beans in it. Anyway, it was a little bit of a family joke that it was actually 'chili', and Enid came up with the compromise to call it 'stili'. Enid kept telling me it was silly and she didn't know why she was crying over it, but I didn't think it was silly."

"Of course, it isn't," Michonne replied, stopping her chopping to come stand next to him.

"My mom would make chili when I was sick and had to stay home. She wasn't the best cook, but she made that dish right. She would put cheese on top. When she put it in front of me, it was always something fun. A smiley face, Mickey Mouse, something silly."

"Yeah," she murmured, watching as reminiscence caused his eye to mist. "Those are the things you want to hold close forever. C'mon, let's make a new memory."

Carl deliberately dropped handfuls of flour-dusted meat into the hot oil. He jumped back, expecting it to splatter, before using the wooden paddle Michonne had handed to him to stir the meat.

After he finished browning all the meat, he reduced the heat to medium and dropped onions, peppers, carrots, parsnips and spices into the pot. Once the onions were translucent and the vegetables had begun to brown, he returned the meat to the pot and poured Michonne's homemade stock into the pot until everything was covered.

He added the beans they'd soaked overnight into the pot and gave everything a final stir. Turning the stove to low, he took a deep, satisfying breath. The entire house smelled like heaven. Enid would love it.

"Nice work, but we're not done yet," Michonne said, turning and walking towards the dining room. "Time for lesson number four."

"What's that?" Carl queried, swiveling his head but staying put in front of the stove, watching as small bubbles appeared on the surface of the simmering pot.

"Setting the table. Can't have Enid enjoying your delicious meal without the proper accompaniment. We don't go halfway in this house."

She walked over to the sideboard where they kept the napkins and silverware.

"C'mon," she teasingly commanded. "You've still got much to learn!"

Laughing to himself, Carl placed a lid on the pot and walked towards her. Of course. There would always be something to learn with Michonne around.


	2. Drama Cookie

**A/N** : A drabble based on one the lovely and talented thematsaidwelcome wrote on her tumblr page.

 **Summary** : Rick wasn't trying to destroy their relationship, but can Michonne really forgive and move on?

* * *

He gazed up at her, startled to see the visible heartache in her big, beautiful eyes, unshed tears now giving them a glassy sheen. She was actually serious. Shit.

"C'mon sweetheart," he said, softening his tone in an attempt to ease her anguish. "How can you be this mad about a cookie? I didn't know you liked Oreos. I've _never_ even seen you eat one."

He beckoned for her to leave the threshold of their bathroom and come join him in bed. But she remained steadfast, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared back at him.

" _I_ didn't want to eat it," she spat through gritted teeth. "But do you know who did? Your BABY! You took food out of your own child's mouth! How could you?"

She took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his carelessness. She soothed herself by rubbing slow circles over her swollen belly. She'd been thinking about that last snack box of Oreos all day. She could almost picture it on the top shelf of the pantry, hidden behind the cereal boxes, too far away to be reached by the grubby, greedy hands of the 2 cookie monsters she'd already brought into this world.

In her wildest dreams, she never imagined him capable of such treachery. Not him. Not the love of her life. Not the father of her children. She leaned against the doorframe, gripping it with her trembling hands as the shock of his betrayal threatened to bring her to her knees. Was it even possible for them to go on after this? If so, how? Moving past this seemed inconceivable.

As the ramifications of their dire situation overwhelmed her very being, the emotions she had been valiantly trying to keep at bay reached the tipping point. She found herself at the cliff's edge with no other choice but down. And so, she fell, releasing the floodgates and finally allowing the fat, salty tears that she had been holding hostage to break free and cascade down her cheeks.

Deep down, she knew she might have been overreacting a touch, but in that moment, looking across their bedroom to the bewildered, yet still smug look on his face, her sobs took on a life of their own.

"Why don't you want me to be happy?" she wailed, lifting the long sleeve of his old college sweatshirt – the only thing that fit her at this late stage of her pregnancy – and using it to wipe her nose.

He jumped out of bed, nearly tripping as he desperately tried to untangle himself from their comforter. He ran to her and pulled her into his embrace, clasping her to his chest like she was the only lifeboat on a sinking ship.

"It's gonna be ok, I promise," he whispered, rubbing calming patterns across her back. He pulled her more tightly towards himself, feeling each small reverberation as her sobs slowly morphed into hiccups.

"I'll run out to the gas station and get you some more. Won't take more than 5 minutes. I'm so sorry baby. I didn't mean to upset you. This won't happen again. You have my word."

She nodded slowly, looking up at him through long, tear-soaked eyelashes.

"I just hope we can get past this," she murmured, shaking her head as she dried her tears on his t-shirt. "I really do."


	3. Family Business

**A/N** : Here's chapter one of a collaboration I did with tigerwalk, sophiasown, and inkslinger21: "It's a Celebration." Please check out the rest of the story on weretheoneswhowrite's ff page. Title of chapter is curtesy of sophiasown.

 **Summary** : Judith is great at keeping secrets... at least _she_ thinks so.

* * *

"I swear to God Rick," Michonne warned, flat on her back, desperately trying to shimmy into her dark-washed extra skinnies. "I hear even the _hint_ of a laugh out of you, and you're in _big_ trouble mister!"

Rick stood at the threshold of their ensuite bathroom gaping at the vision of his wife sprawled across their bed, grunting loudly as she attempted to pull up her favorite – and his too – pair of jeans. He leaned one arm against the doorway as he studied her, spellbound by the arousing gyrations taking place just a few feet away. His other hand gripped the towel loosely slung low around his waist, as he bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from displaying any signs of merriment. Michonne lifted her head from the mattress to peer over at him, taking in the full view of his labor-sculpted torso, scarred and battered, but still amazingly strong, resilient, and oh, so sexy.

The amusement in his eyes shone brightly as Rick absentmindedly leaned back to stretch out the taut stiffness of his lower back. The steam from his scalding shower had done their job in relaxing his muscles and soothing the soreness that still plagued his right knee, never fully healed so long after their war with the Saviors.

Heat from the shower had caused the skin of his upper body, lightly dusted with hair, to take on a pinkish hue. The sun streaming through the sheer curtains of the bedroom windows highlighted small droplets of water as they ran down his nearly-dry body. He ran his hand through his still-damp hair, pushing the curls off his forehead, as he contemplated how best to approach his aggravated wife, currently mired in a fruitless struggle to pull up her jeans.

A particularly loud groan from Michonne, still prone on the bed, elicited a throaty guffaw from Rick. The sound caused Michonne's head to jerk up off the bed and stare daggers at him. Damn. She didn't look pleased. He released his hold on the towel, letting it fall onto the carpeted floor as he stepped over it on his quest to help his love.

 _Might be somethin' I can do to help._

"Not one step further Rick," she cautioned, finding nothing amusing about her current predicament. "You know better than to laugh. You should be on your knees thanking the heavens my katana is downstairs."

They were nearing the fourth month of her pregnancy and she had spent much of the past week lamenting how _nothing_ seemed to fit. She hated it, but he was not-so-secretly thrilled. He was elated to see the actual physical changes to her body. The prospect of finally reaching the point where they could build something that would last beyond themselves had brought him unimaginable joy.

He tried not to smile, but "Mad Michonne" was a favorite of his and she looked _so_ adorable when she was frustrated over things she ordinarily wouldn't have given a second thought. Threats of bodily harm aside, she looked delectable. Her preciously tiny bump had finally taken root and he marveled at the way her already unbelievably soft skin had become even silkier. Her lustrous skin seemed to glow from the inside out, leaving him to ponder how such a constitution was even possible in this still rough and tumble world.

The morning sickness had subsided, and she was feeling more like herself again. For that, he was grateful. Grateful for the now nearly nightly reaches towards him. Grateful for her new predilection for early morning escapades. Grateful for the sheer voracity of her passion. Grateful for all of it.

"Awwww, sweetheart," he began, biting his lip a bit too harshly in an attempt to dampen his mirth. "Why don't you try somethin' easier to wear? I got you all those pants during the last run, an–"

"I'm _not_ wearing elastic waist-band pants Rick!" she groused, the emotional response from his usually even-tempered wife startling him just a bit. "I don't know why you got me those in the first place. They aren't even my style."

"I got them because I want you to be _comfortable_ Michonne," he claimed, giving up on the impossible task of preventing his smile from emerging. She was just too damn gorgeous when she was upset over something so petty. He couldn't help relishing in the moment.

"Riiiick," she drawled. "No one should _ever_ be that comfortable. It's a slippery slope and it _always_ starts with elastic waist-bands. Before you know it, it's sweats at all hours of the day, and wearing a hair wrap outside. No sir. _I_ am not the one."

He furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side, baffled by her logic. How could comfort be a slippery slope? She read the confusion on his face. Sighing deeply, she began,

"My entire pregnancy with Andre, I dressed like _me_. I vowed pregnancy wouldn't ruin my fashion sense. If anything, I was even more stylish, if I do say so myself. I'm not going to be wearing sweatpants and caftans with this one. I refuse!"

"First of all, I don't even know what a caf– cat– Wait, what was it again?" he queried.

"It's _caftan_ Rick," she grumbled, giving him a protracted eye roll. "You just proved my point. You have no idea what's stylish."

He chuckled again, looking down at her from the side of the bed. She had managed to get the jeans past the smooth, sleek softness of her thighs, but was fighting to get them beyond her widened hips and the additional… cushion that had added glorious padding to her backside.

His eyes tracked her movements as she writhed on their bed, clad in only a lavender lace bra and matching panties. Gazing at her, he felt that familiar stirring. That well-known pull towards her that he could never bring himself to resist.

She looked over towards him, her eyes bulging as she took in his stiffening member.

"Are you serious Rick?" she implored, finding his eyes expertly trained on hers. "We don't have time. We need to be out of here in 30 minutes, which will be a miracle in itself."

Swooping onto the bed to straddle her, he shrugged and asserted, "don't need much time. I'll be quick… I promise."

"Yeah, right," she said, allowing him the honor of a smile and a short laugh. "You can only fool me so many times with that line. I'm not falling for it anymore."

"Aw, c'mon sweetheart," he whispered, playing dirty as he leaned down to run his tongue over the outer edge of her ear lobe. "Just a little sugar for daddy. Please?"

She giggled. He looked so sexy peering down at her. His curls falling back onto his face, the light scattering of hair glistening across his damp chest. But, she was a strong woman. She wasn't going to be swayed by the walking distraction that was Rick Grimes.

"If you don't get off of me, we're never going to leave the house Rick."

"Hmmmm. I don't see a problem there. Do you?"

"I'm serious. Just help me pull these up and zip it. Maybe I can use a cloth belt or something to hold them closed…"

"Nah," he whispered, scooting backwards and attempting to pull her jeans back down to her ankles.

"Rick," she sputtered, gripping the jeans by a belt loop as she tried to keep them on her. "What are you doing? It took me 10 minutes to get them this far!"

"I got a better idea," he said, turning her jeans inside out as he pulled them off and tossed them onto the carpeted floor.

He looked down at her, taking in the sublime expanse of dark, unbelievably glossy skin that covered her body. He could sup from her all day and never be satiated.

"Well?" she asked, annoyed that he was just standing there, even though she didn't mind staring at his wonderfully naked self for a moment. "You just going to stand there, or are you going to actually help your wife out?"

Smirking, he turned and walked towards their closet, allowing her the distinct pleasure of watching his cute little butt and bowed-legs from the back. A slow creeping smile crested over her face as he disappeared into the closet. Maybe they _did_ have a little time for some fun.

After rummaging for what felt like forever, he came out holding a red sundress covered in daisies. She gave him a curious look as he smiled broadly at her surprise.

"Where'd you get that?" she questioned, looking at the beautiful, vintage-style dress in his hands.

"Found it sittin' in the window of some shop during our last run," he stated, pleased that he had picked right. He smirked as he continued, "thought it'd look perfect on you."

Her smile brightened as she got up from the bed and walk over to take a closer look. She took it from his hands, running her hands over the exquisitely soft material, admiring the rich color, as well as the fashionable open back and halter neckline. The loose bodice would be perfect for skimming over her growing bump and concealing their little surprise. It was perfect.

"It's perfect Rick," she whispered, her chin beginning to tremble. "Who am I crying over this? Jeez. These hormones will be the death of me!"

Pulling her into an embrace, he said, "I love you sweetheart. Wanted you to have somethin' nice."

He bent down to capture her lips, crushing the dress between them as his tongue explored her mouth. Soft moans rose from both of them as her body, flush against his, felt the inescapable indication of his arousal.

 _What's a few more minutes?_

A loud bang from downstairs interrupted their revelry. The subsequent "everything's fine!" brought laughter and recognition there'd be no afternoon delight.

"Saved by the bell," she sighed, looking up to catch the mild annoyance in his eyes.

He nodded. _Plenty of time for that tonight_.

"You need to get ready anyway," Michonne stated, taking the lovely dress from him and shaking out wrinkles their brief dalliance had caused. "I need to go down there and make sure those kids haven't destroyed all my hard work."

Untying the halter neck closure, Michonne stepped into the dress and drew it up her body, watching Rick's eyes follow its path as she pulled the top of the dress around her neck and turned her back towards him.

"Tie me up?" she purred, feeling the heat emanating from his body as reached out for the strings and tied a bow at the back of her neck.

Completing his task, he took a moment to trail his calloused hands over the warm, smooth expanse of her back, his tender caresses causing tingles across her skin. He leaned in, placing wet kisses onto her back, while gripping her hip to hold her in place as he brought her back flush with his front. She chuckled, knowing what game he was trying to play, yet again. Unfortunately, they didn't have time.

"Woah, cowboy," she teased, turning to face him.

The pout on his lips only added to her amusement. She rose onto her toes and pulled him towards her as he leaned down to share a long, leisurely kiss that pulled the air from both of them. She released his lips, exhaling slowly as she planted her feet back onto the ground and smiled up at him.

"Don't be too long," she said, turning her back to him as she made her way downstairs.

* * *

"Judith, what did I just say?" Carl asked, irritated by his baby sister's inability to listen to his instructions. "You can't sit on the counter playing around or you'll fall and hurt yourself. You already dropped your toys."

Judith looked over at her brother, slumped against the stove, ladling the deer stew that Michonne had lovingly prepared into the large serving containers Enid had brought from the pantry. It smelled delicious. So delicious that Carl had snuck a few mouthfuls as he emptied the pot. Enid, from her perch on a barstool in front of the island, covered her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The banter between Carl and Judith always tickled her. Feisty Judith was something to behold.

"Na-ah," she declared. "Mommy lets me sit on the counter and help. She _always_ needs help and says I'm the best because _you_ do things the wrong way and she has to fix it. Annnnd, you always eat stuff when s'posed to be for everyone! Right Enid?"

"Sorry Carl," Enid said, the laughter evident in her eyes as she took in the comical look of annoyance her boyfriend was throwing her way. "She _does_ make a good point."

"Whatever Judas," Carl retorted, rolling his eyes as Enid tipped her head towards the ceiling and snorted with laughter.

Judith leaned back onto the countertop, her self-satisfied smile raising a short cackle from Carl. Judith narrowed her eyes, her little brows furrowing in tandem. If there was one thing his sweet-faced baby sister didn't like, it was not being in on the joke. Busted taking a few bites from the dish, he knew Judith would tattle the _minute_ Michonne and his dad came downstairs.

"How about I give you a bite Judith," he cajoled. "C'mon now. It's your favorite."

Judith looked over at him. She really _did_ want a bite, but… Mommy said it was for the party. So, with the patience of Job, the little girl reluctantly shook her head.

"Unbelievable," Carl muttered, once again taken aback by the willpower of the soon-to-be three-year-old.

"Judy," he called out, hoping to distract her with a different topic. "Do you remember what we talked about yesterday? About the baby?"

Judy looked at him, not understanding the question. "Yeah…I remember."

"We said we weren't going to talk about the baby, even though it's really, really exciting," he continued.

"'Course!" Judith huffed, crossing her little arms over her chest. " _Everybody_ knows that."

She cast Carl a withering stare. Mommy had already _told_ her it was a secret. Mommy said it was _family business_. Judith knew this meant it was only for Mommy, Daddy, Carl, and herself. And sometimes Enid, but _no one_ else. She was really good at keeping secrets. After all, she hadn't told anyone about the chocolates Mommy kept in a box on the floor of her closet. Mostly because Mommy would sneak her a piece when she was being good. And Judith tried very hard to be good and make Mommy proud.

"Ok then," he replied, unable to prevent his lips from curling upwards as he took in Judith's perturbed countenance. "Just make sure you don't or I might have to tell Mommy…"

"Make sure she doesn't what?" Michonne asked, looking towards Carl as she cleared the doorway and stepped into the kitchen. "You better not be teasing my sweet girl. Isn't that right baby?"

Michonne look on as Carl first shook his head, then tipped it towards the ceiling, silently lamenting the clear bias towards all things Judith. Usually, he was onboard. But he didn't trust his nosy, talkative little sister to hold water, let alone a secret she'd been so excited about. He brought his eyes back to the task at hand and finished scooping the stew into the containers and covered them with matching lids.

"Mommy!" Judith exclaimed, reaching her arms out towards Michonne. "You look so pretty!"

"Thank you, baby," Michonne replied, walking towards Judith's spot on the countertop. "Carl, what exactly did you do to get my Judy-bug all riled up?"

Carl turned from the stove and cast a glance towards Michonne, now leaning across the center island and pulling the now compliant Judith into her arms. As she opened her arms wider to be picked up, Judith threw a smirk her big brother's way, then discreetly stuck her tongue out at him while snuggling into Michonne's arms.

"Why do you think _I_ did something?" Carl began, willing to relinquish for a moment his role as protective big brother in an effort to teach Judith a lesson. "You know, she's not a baby any more. She knows _exactly_ how to play you Mom."

Michonne pivoted to take a look at Enid, smiling broadly as she quietly took in the usual morning shenanigans in the Grimes household. Having gotten to know this spirited young woman who loved and challenged her son, Michonne exchanged a complicit grin with Enid.

"Hmmmm. Maybe because you _always_ do something," Enid began, looking directly at the scowl now framing Carl's face. "I think the point of being a big brother is to, oh, I dunno, be the _mature_ one. How's Judith gonna learn?"

"Yeah Carl," Michonne piled on, watching as Carl's head swiveled between Enid's obvious betrayal and Michonne's, before landing on the true culprit: Judith, who's sunny smile belayed the trouble she had just dropped into her brother's lap.

"You're her role model Carl," Michonne continued, glee sparkling in her eyes. "How will she learn if you don't lead her down the right path?"

"Ok, ok, I got it," Carl surrendered, raising his hands in the air. "If you don't want my help preventing Judith from spilling the beans, then don't say I didn't warn you. _Judy-bug_ is a leaky boat."

Eyebrow raised, Carl dramatically shrugged his shoulders, before tilting his head towards Enid, gesturing for her to get up.

"C'mon, let's get this in the car, then go over to see if Rosita wants to drive over with us."

"I thought she went with Eugene and Tara?" Michonne asked, holding Judith on one hip, while gripping a bowl of sliced apples in the other hand and gesturing for Judith to take a piece. "Didn't they leave last night? Eugene needed to set up the lighting for the dance floor and Tara wanted to learn how to do it."

"Yeah, well, you know how Rosita is," Carl began, gripping the large container as Enid stacked smaller ones on top. "She's not exactly… the party type. You know how she complains when we have these things. She _hates_ happy people, always griping and looking miserable."

"Carl," Michonne chastised, pinning him in place with her glare. "You _know_ that's not true. She's been struggling… it's been awhile, but some wounds take longer to heal than others. She still feels guilty. We just need to give her more time. Trust me. She'll come around."

Carl nodded, chiding himself for not being more understanding. Balancing the containers in his hands, he turned towards the front door, with Enid following closely behind.

"I'll load this into the car and meet you guys out there in 20 minutes," Carl stated. "Let's see if we actually leave on time."

"Bye-bye!" Judith cheerfully called out as she wrapped her little arms around Michonne's neck.

"See you in a few," Michonne added. "Come on Judith, let's go find your shoes."

* * *

"So, my lovely," Michonne said, rubbing noses with a giggling Judith as she walked them over to the couch to help Judith put on her shoes. "What exactly did you do to your brother?"

Judith leaned away from Michonne, scrunching her little face as if she had just taken a hard suck from a particularly sour lemon.

"Nothing Mommy!" she exclaimed, her hands playing with the crimped edges of Michonne's locs, now adorned with the gold clips Judith so adored.

"Nothing huh?" Michonne replied, reaching under the coffee table for the white sandals with flowers on the buckles Judith _insisted_ on wearing whenever anyone mentioned a party. "If I ask Carl, what is going to tell me?"

"Ahhhh," Judith pondered, debating whether or not to give up the goods. "Weeelll… Carl keeps saying I'm going to tell about the baby, but I already _know_ I'm not supposed to tell. Carl keeps saying that I _will_. But I won't Mommy! You said it was _family business_ and I know what that means."

"Oh baby," Michonne cooed, looking on as Judith furiously tried to puzzle through the logic of Carl's proclamations. "I know you're a big girl. You know Carl's just playing with you."

"Well, I don't like it," she announced, once again crossing her arms over her chest and letting out a exaggerated huff. "I know _lots_ of stuff and I don't tell. I know Daddy walks into the bedroom with his boots on when you're not home, even though he's _supposed_ to keep them by the door so we don't track dirt into the house. Or when Carl cleans his gun on the dinner table when he's _supposed_ to do it in the garage! See! I never told anyone!"

Michonne couldn't hide the look of bemusement on her face as Judith, indignant as ever, unknowingly proceeded to spill tea on both Rick and Carl. When she had satisfactorily completed her rant, she leaned back against the couch cushions and crossed her legs.

"See Mommy?" Judith said, fully expecting her mother to take her side. "I can keep secrets!"

"I know you can baby," she said, leaning over to give her a soothing rub on the back as Judith nodded her head in agreement.

"Mommy, I want to wear my red dress to match yours," Judith began, already forgetting about her previous rage. "Can I change? I don't like this dress anymore."

"Judith, we don't have time," she began, ignoring the look of vexation taking over Judith's cute features.

"Pleeeaassse Mommy?" Judith implored, those big sorrowful eyes looking up at Michonne through long, nearly blonde eyelashes. "I want to match your dress. Please?"

Michonne didn't stand a chance. Not with that face peering up at her.

"Alright Judith," Michonne acquiesced, buckling Judith's sandals.

A smile rocketed across Judith's face and she quickly jumped down from the couch.

"Just make sure you let Daddy help you because we only have 10 more minutes."

"Ok Mommy!" she called out, running through the living room and up the stairs.

* * *

"Daddy!" Judith cried out, short of breath as she rounded the corner towards her parent's bedroom and ran right into Rick's shins.

"Slow down Judith!" Rick exclaimed, grabbing her by the shoulders before they both landed on the ground. "Where's the fire?"

"Nowhere!" Judith exclaimed, looking up at him. "Mommy said I have to hurry and change my dress. You have to help me put on my red dress so we match!"

Rick laughed as Judith raced around him towards her bedroom, lifting her yellow sundress over her head as she ran. He followed her into the room, looking on as she frantically opened up her closet door.

"There it is!" she excitedly shouted, pointing to the dress sitting prettily on the hanger.

Rick leaned over and plucked it from the rod, bring it down for Judith's perusal.

"It's perfect," she stated, clutching the dress to her chest while gently rubbing the fabric.

Rick pulled the red dress with white polka dots over Judith's head, careful to not mess up the two ponytails Michonne had artful created on Judith's head, even though Judith herself had set them slightly askew when she haphazardly pulled off her previous dress. Rick smoothed down the dress, as Judith excitedly spun around for him, the movement causing the dress to swirl around her.

"You look beautiful sweetheart," Rick said, bending down to her height to lean in and give her a hug.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Judith replied proudly.

Pulling her into his arms, he lifted her up as he rose to his feet.

"Remember what we talked about?" Rick began, as he walked out of her room and into the hallway. "We can't tell _anyone_ about the baby, right?"

"I know Daddy!" Judith sighed, rolling her eyes theatrically.

 _Gonna have to talk to Carl about all that eye rollin' rubbin' off on his sister._

"I'm good at keeping secrets. I never even told you about Mommy's chocolate!"

"Oh Judy, _everybody_ knows about Mommy's chocolate," Rick grinned.

"But _I_ didn't tell you!" Judith insisted, her wide eyes capturing her fathers as he held onto the railing and carefully walked them down the stairs.

"I know sweetheart, I know," he soothed, giving her a kiss on the cheek as they cleared the bottom step and walked into the kitchen. He smiled at her obliviousness to having just done _exactly_ what she said she didn't do.

He spied Michonne across the room, picking up their overnight bag from its spot next to the front door. He stared as she quickly slipped on her white strappy wedges. She was breathtaking. She looked up at him, taking him in as he carried a smiling Judith towards her.

"You ready?" she asked, reaching for the door knob.

"Yeah," he replied, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips. "Let's head on out."

She smiled into his kiss, finally releasing him as he straightened up, Judith still firmly in his arms. Michonne turned and opened the front door, slinging the bag over her shoulder and reaching behind her for Rick's hand. Rick slid Judith to the ground as he closed the door, freeing his hand to grasp Michonne's as they walked down the stairs and towards the waiting car.


	4. Duncan

**A/N** : Let's consider this a bonus track from _The Season of Light_ universe.

 **Summary** : It's Family Sleep night!

* * *

Moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains covering the bedroom windows, it's dim beam joining light from a lamp on the bedside table to illuminate the cozy room. Rick leaned back against the headboard, attempting to keep tears at bay as he gazed down at their latest blessing, the beautiful baby boy laying across his outstretched legs.

"Your Mama's gonna _love_ walkin' back in here and seein' you covered in Daddy's tears," Rick said, smiling down at his sleeping boy. "Again."

The newest Grimes was swaddled snuggly in an impossibly fluffy wrap, one of many Michonne had knitted when the boredom of forced late-pregnancy bedrest had made her intolerably restless.

They'd all spent the three months since his arrival in utter bliss. Grateful for yet another life to shepherd through this new world. As the living began to once again rule the world, children were no longer considered dangerous burdens, but beloved opportunities to raise decent, brave souls that would return society not only to its former glory, but build an even better civilization.

Rick sat spellbound as he watched his son arch his tiny back and let out a long, noisy yawn, one far louder than would be expected from an infant. Chuckling through his tears, he leaned down to kiss the wondrously soft, downy curls covering every bit of the darling boy's head. He inhaled the sweet aroma and smiled. He'd nearly forgotten the glorious scent only a baby could emit. It was heavenly.

As he lifted his son to his chest and prepared to put him back in his crib, water from the sink in their adjoining bathroom stopped running, signaling Michonne had finished brushing her teeth and would return to their bedroom shortly.

Rocking the baby slowly, he eagerly awaited her appearance, watching as the bathroom door slowly opened. As soon as her silhouette filled the doorway, his heart began to flutter. After all this time, the first glance of her after even 5 minutes apart still brought a giddy excitement like nothing else could. He took in her radiate smile from across the room, knowing how much she loved watching him with their son in his arms.

"You were right," Rick whispered, shimmering tears obscuring his view of her. "His name suits him perfectly."

Michonne gazed adoringly at Rick, her smile broadening as she watched him bend his head and plant another kiss on the top of his head.

She inhaled deeply, her emotions overflowing as she took in the sight. Their tiny warrior. The unexpected blessing that had finally completed their family.

"You had doubts?" she teased, dropping a hand to her hip as she made her way to their bed.

" _Never_ ," Rick retorted, peering up into her magnificently rich, dark eyes as she moved to her side of the bed. "Just statin' facts is all."

She snorted at his cheeky reply, quickly clasping her hand over her mouth to avoid waking their sleeping boy. Rick beckoned to her as he lay back onto his pillow. Michonne pulled off her t-shirt – technically one she'd stolen from him – opting for just a tank top since it would make nighttime feeding easier. Slipping beneath the covers, her eyes never left Rick and their baby boy.

"It's been three months and you're _still_ boo-hooing?" Michonne teased, catching the telltale red eyes and damp lashes as Rick cradled the baby and turned on his side to face her.

"What can I say?" Rick shrugged, his rough-skinned thumb reaching out to stroke the apples of her cheeks. "I'm a sentimental fool. I still can't believe that we ma–. We _made_ this Michonne."

"He _is_ something," she said, letting her hands skim over the length of his tiny body. "I never thought so either… Too much to dream of, let alone hope for. I didn't–"

She quieted her heart, fully aware of how close she was to actual tears. She released a shaky sob as Rick turned slightly, their baby boy between them, and pulled her into the soothing warmth of his arms.

She looked down at their son, a perfect blend of both of them and exactly as she had always imagined. Rick's soft, tightly coiled curls and bowed legs; her sloped nose and inky brown eyes.

"Now let's get this one into his crib," she said, taking the baby from Rick's arms as she began rising from their bed. "If he starts getting used to sleeping with us now, we'll _never_ get him out of our bed."

Rick chucked at the image. He didn't really want to let him go, but he did see her point.

"You're right, as usual. I guess he's gotta learn sometime."

She laughed as she walked over to the crib on her side of the bed. Placing him down gently, she leaned in to rub his belly and leave several soft kiss on his head, taking in a deep breath to absorb his intoxicating fragrance. Hearing Rick rise from the bed and walk towards them, she turned around to face him. Rick pulled her into his arms, walking them backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. He captured her lips in a searing kiss as he reclined onto the bed, bringing her down on top of him.

Rick ran his hands down her sides and across her back, landing both on her backside, which he palmed and gave a firm yet gentle squeeze. She deepened their kiss, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth, and drawing a throaty moan out of Rick.

With three young children to care for, their usually frequent intimacy had taken a backseat to feeding and caring for their brood. But with the house now quiet and the baby sleeping, they hurriedly claimed each other, knowing an interruption would be inevitable and a quickly would have to suffice.

The soft yet impatient knock on their bedroom door caused an entirely different kind of groan to cross Rick's lips. It proved to be the first indication things would not go as Rick had hoped. Refusing to acknowledge defeat just yet, he continued his ministrations, licking the side of Michonne's neck as he pressed his steely erection against her center.

"If we're _really_ quiet, they'll go away," he reasoned, holding onto her more tightly as he felt her begin to pull away.

"And when has that strategy ever worked Rick?" she chuckled, forcing him to gently release his hold as she slowing pulled away and began rising from the bed. "If we're lucky, it's a bad dream and I can get her back to bed in ten minutes. Then we can pick up where we left off."

Rick scoffed before opening his eyes to find slight frustration, but obvious mirth in Michonne's eyes as she slipped from his arms. He had his doubts. She turned to wink at him, before making her way to the door.

Expecting to find only one, her hopes were dashed when she opened the door to find two little girls looking up at her with big, expectant eyes.

"What's the matter ladies?" Michonne began, bending down to make eye contact with the beautiful and strong-willed girls in the middle of the Grimes birth order.

As their self-designated spokesperson, Judith began,

"She got scared Mama and wanted us to come see if we could sleep in your room."

Michonne looked over at Judith's shadow, the sweet child with the dark brown curls and her father's soft, light brown eyes.

"Is that true sweetie," Michonne quietly asked, pulling the little one into her arms.

Clutching her big sister's hand in her own, while her other hand tightly gripped her favorite teddy bear, the youngest Grimes girl nodded.

"See Mama, I wasn't telling a tale," Judith griped, insulted by Michonne's insinuation.

"Well, lucky for _both_ of you, we've got _plenty_ of room," Michonne said, tugging both girls under her arms as she turned to make her way back to bed.

She looked up to find a less-than-thrilled Rick, propped up against the headboard, his arms crossed. He let out a dramatic sigh when Michonne gave him a look. Not tonight.

"Yeah girls, c'mon," he said, wearily lifting the blankets to make room in the bed.

…

As the girls prepared to settle into bed, the bedroom door creaked open.

"Hey!" Carl called out, sticking his head into the room. "How come no one told me it was family sleep tonight?"

Michonne laughed, already guessing the look on Rick's face as their eldest made his way into the room, couch cushions and a blanket tucked under his arms.

"Not sure why we have three bedrooms if we only use one," Rick grumbled, sinking back onto his pillow.

Carl shrugged his shoulders, smirking as he walked to the bed. As was the ritual, he arranged the cushions on the floor next to Rick's side of the bed, before laying down and pulling the blankets over his head.

Family sleep, as Carl had named it, was born out of necessity. They'd wanted to conserve energy during the cold, dark winters when the solar panels powering Alexandria were most taxed. They'd tell stories, laugh, and cuddle for warmth. While Rick really wanted alone time with Michonne, this was one of his fondest memories, so he tried his best not to mind too much.

As Michonne turned to meet Rick's gaze, they both started laughing upon hearing soft snores emanating from the floor. 30 seconds. Carl might have set a record.

"How can that kid already be asleep?" Rick marveled, dropping a kiss on Michonne's shoulder as he hugged her from behind.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she giggled, Rick's warm breath tickling the back of her neck. "I'm pretty sure it's before his head even hits the pillow."

"Our boy _does_ have a gift," Rick chuckled quietly, his calloused hands running up and down her arms.

"He does indeed," she whispered.

Rick smiled, reveling at his good fortune. Happiness cloaked the room and warmed his heart. Somehow, some way, in all this chaos, he'd met the love of his life. The woman who had shown him the way. The woman who taught him how to be the man she deserved. The woman he loved.

"You ready for tomorrow?" she whispered, her eyes drooping as she let out a long yawn.

"I've _been_ ready," he replied, kissing her shoulder once more. "I love you Mrs. Grimes.

"I love you too Mr. Grimes," she murmured, closing her eyes.


	5. I Love You Too Mom

A/N: This one-shot is from the weretheoneswhowrite Carchonne prompt: "First time he gets in trouble at school." Please check out their tumblr and ff pages!

Summary: When a sullen Carl gets suspended from school, Michonne is determined to uncover why.

* * *

Brows furrowed and her anxiety heightened, Michonne tried to catch his eye in the rearview mirror. Expertly avoiding her gaze by tugging on the brim of his Braves baseball cap, Carl proceeded to slump further down into his seat.

Shaking her head in frustration, Michonne looked back out onto the traffic ahead of her. They were at a standstill. Glancing down at her watch, she realized there would be no way she could make it to the courthouse on time. Sasha would have to take second chair.

"Hey Siri, call Boom-Boom," Michonne called out, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for the device to connect.

"Hey Mich," Sasha answered breathlessly, picking up on the first ring. "What's going on? You ran out of here like a bat outta hell!"

"Hey Boom-Boom," Michonne replied, exhaling deeply through pursed lips. "Had a bit of an emergency and needed to pick Carl up from school. I need–"

"Everything ok?" Sasha asked, her concern apparent even over the phone.

"Everything's gonna be ok," Michonne clarified, glancing back at a sulking Carl, before returning her attention to the road ahead. "But… I'm stuck in traffic and there's no way I make it in on time. Judge Friedman's gonna kill us if we're down a lawyer. Can you sub for me?"

"You know I've got you," Sasha replied, already opening up a chat on her laptop to ping Andrea. "We'll take care of it. Just let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks Boom-Boom!" Michonne exclaimed. "You're a lifesaver."

"You need to stop calling me that at work," Sasha teased, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I've got a reputation to uphold. Oh, and say 'hi' to my sweet Carl for me!"

"Will do, thanks Sasha," Michonne said, ending the call and shifting in her seat to take another peek at Carl.

Principal Jones hadn't said much when he called her at work that morning. Just that Carl had been suspended for fighting, and since Rick was away on a three-day conference for the Sheriff's department, she'd have to come get him from school.

She spotted him the minute her feet crossed the threshold of the school's office. Eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders drooping, seemingly folding under the weight of his oversized backpack. Carl didn't utter a single word while Michonne spoke to Principal Jones. Nor did he comment when she signed his suspension papers and handed them back to the school secretary.

Through the parking lot and all the way to the car, she watched as he silently shuffled ahead her. When not even a peep crossed his lips as they entered the freeway and headed into the late morning gridlock, the unnatural hush in the car proved too much; Michonne threw in the towel.

"So, you feel like telling me what's going on? Fighting at school certainly doesn't sound like the Carl I know."

She turned to stare back at him as he once again averted his eyes, opting to focus on the bright purple flowers dotting the road's median. Looking back, she realized he'd been acting unlike himself for the past few weeks. She'd originally thought it was the stress of attending a new school, but Carl made friends easily. He'd already found a best friend in their new neighbor, though they weren't in the same class at school.

She turned back and stared down at the steering wheel, willing herself to break through an exterior that had always so easily yielded to her. The year had been a whirlwind for all of them. Marrying Rick and officially becoming his stepmom, moving to a new house, going to a new school, and the birth of a baby brother.

Carl was a kid who took changes in stride; he never seemed bothered before. Had she been too preoccupied to notice him struggling?

With her eyes on the road, Carl peeked up at Michonne from under the brim of his hat. He hated making her worry. He just didn't know how to say what he was feeling. He smiled a little to himself, thinking about how good she always said she was about getting him and his dad – her two peas in a pod – to confess to her whatever was ailing them. He just didn't want her to know that he had let his temper rule him when he didn't walk away when a stupid six-grader decided to pick a fight.

He snuck another peek, catching her eyes in the rearview mirror and finally opting to hold on to them.

"C'mon Carl. We're best friends right? We tell each other everything. You know you can tell me anything. I'll always listen."

"You remember Jacob, Matt's older brother?" he quietly asked, looking down at his lap to nervously pick at a stray thread on the hem of his cargo shorts.

"Yeah, I remember," she replied, puzzling over what possibly could have transpired between a 10-year old Carl and his new best friend's older brother. "What about him?"

"Well…" Carl began, his voice dropping even further as his father's eyes stared back at Michonne. "He keeps teasing me about Andre. I guess… I just got sick of it today."

Carl noted the look of surprise on her face. Sighing, he went on,

"Remember that assignment Mrs. Niedermeyer gave us to build our family tree? The one we had to present in the auditorium in front of everyone?"

"Yeah, I remember," Michonne cautiously stated, still unclear as to where this story was headed. "I know how nervous you were, but you said it went well..."

"It did," he insisted, quickly nodding his head. "Except for one thing: The older kids were invited too because Mrs. Niedermeyer wanted us to practice public speaking and said we needed an audience."

With traffic still not moving, Michonne gazed back at him, her eyes encouraging him to continue.

"Anyway, I ended mine with that picture Miss Sasha took of us at the party, the one we had when Andre came home from the hospital. When I was done, Jacob yelled out that that wasn't my family and I must be adopted."

"Oh Carl," Michonne murmured, angry tears springing to her eyes. "What did Mrs. Niedermeyer do?"

Her boy was being bullied and she didn't like it at all. Not one bit. Mama Bear hackles instantly raised, she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles began to ache.

"She told him it wasn't a nice thing to say and made him apologize, but he rolled his eyes when she turned around, so I know he didn't mean it. She gave him detention too, but it hasn't stopped. He says it all the time now and got his friends to do it too. I tried to be good, be the bigger person and walk away, just like you say I should. I didn't antig– anta–"

"Antagonize."

"Yeah, I didn't antagonize him. But today, he kept following me when I tried to walk away and it made me really, really mad. So…"

"So?"

"So, I punched him in the stomach," Carl huffed, turning his attention back out the window and to the flowers. "I know I should have kept my hands to myself, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't."

Michonne sighed. This was nowhere near what she thought he was going to say. She struggled for a minute, trying to pull her thoughts together. Carl was such an intuitive, sweet child, always quick to defend others. He wore his heart on his sleeve, just like his Daddy.

Losing his mother at such a young age hadn't harden him, but had made this kind, inquisitive child's heart even more open. Open enough to take in a young woman who had also lost her own mom at a young age. Carl had helped her not only finally heal, but accept and cherish the love of this kindred spirit and his wonderful father. Being a part of his life for the past five years have been some of the most rewarding times of her entire life. He was her heart.

"First off, you look exactly like your Daddy, so that kid has no idea what the hell he's talking about. Secondly–"

"Language!" Carl shouted, a small smile cresting his lips.

Michonne let him have that one, theatrically rolling her eyes as the sound of Carl's giggles soothed her soul.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, secondly, you remember that baby picture Meemaw and Pawpaw have of you over the fireplace? The one right next to the one of Andre? Aside from Andre being a few shades darker, you two could be twins."

Carl nodded, pondering her words as the picture came to his mind's eye. They did look alike. Even he could see it. He knew Jacob was just being mean. He didn't regret hitting him, but felt bad about making Michonne worry enough that she missed work to come and get him.

"That kid is just a bully. Bullies love when they find your sensitive parts. He must have seen how happy that picture made you, so he decided to be nasty about it. It's not nice, but sometimes, that's just how people are."

"But why?" Carl queried, eyes returning to his lap as he fixated on his intertwined fingers. "Why would he care what our family looks like?"

"He probably doesn't, but he knows it bothers you when he points it out, so he keeps doing it. I can't really explain it either. Principal Jones wants us to meet with his parents, so I'm hoping this will be the end of his behavior. But if it's not, you just walk away. The Grimes are strong and Jacob's probably just jealous. You know why right? He's just jealous because… all we–"

"Do is win, win, win," Carl cheered, joining her in the song they'd agreed was their anthem. "No matter what!"

She laughed, savoring the joyful air that had usurped the tension.

"How about this," she said, turning on her signal light as she moved over to the freeway exit. "Let's go get Andre from Meemaw and Pawpaw's right now. We can spend the rest of the day together. Just the three of us!"

Michonne knew how much he loved spending time with his baby brother.

"That sounds good," he said, tipping his head back against the headrest, a broad smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

She snaked her hand between the front seats and reached back towards him, waiting until he leaned forward and grabbed it.

"I love you so much Carl," she said, blinking rapidly to keep happy tears from falling.

"I love you too Mom."


	6. Do It For Me

A/N: Drabble posted on weretheoneswhowrite tumblr page. Prompt: Quick&Dirty

* * *

Her back arched against his chest, scorched by the heat radiating from his pulsating erection as he rocked between the cheeks of her luscious backside.

Their eyes locked in her vanity's mirror; warm mahogany colliding with iridescent blue.

His eyes reluctantly left hers, traveling to her drenched pussy, where his fingers parted folds to reveal her sweet pink center.

"Spread your legs for me," he rasped, pushing her against the countertop while slowly stroking his steel-girded cock, spreading her glistening nectar across its head.

She did as she was told, gasping as he entered her in a single, heart-stopping motion.


	7. Let's Play

A/N: Drabble posted on weretheoneswhowrite tumblr page. Prompt: Quick&Dirty

* * *

A low growl escaped his lips, anticipation threatening to ruin him. She disapproved; now would come his punishment.

Snugly covering his eyes, the mask pitched him into darkness, leaving only her sweet and spicy scent as his guide.

Straddling him, bare pussy nestled against his thighs, her leather-clad hand trailed across his taut stomach, pausing to palm his quivering cock and give it a firm squeeze.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Michonne purred, dragging her tongue over its leaking head, before winding a leather strap around the shaft.

He nodded, knowing he'd _never_ tell her to stop.


	8. Homecoming: 'Tis the Season

A/N: This was for a prompt series cooked up by the very lovely - and my favorite Brandy4Life(tm) - winterscorpion. The story idea is from one of the hardest working writers in the fandom, Sophiasown. Tthis is dedicated to her! Merry Christmas!

Summary: Rick returns to Alexandria, just in time for Christmas.

* * *

"Daddy?" RJ whispered, seeming to test the word as he rested his head on his father's lap and stared up at him. "Mommy said you died."

Michonne, kneeling on the hearth, quickly turned to peer at the three loves of her life, cozily nestled under a mountain of blankets strewn across the couch. Awaiting Rick's response, she turned back around, plucking two logs from a stack beside the fireplace.

Hypnotized by flashes from the dying fire, she paused for a moment, before tossing both logs onto the amber-colored cinders. After fanning the rising flames, she slowly rubbed her hands together, their soreness gradually dissipating into the fire's shimmering heat.

Crouching, she pulled thick wool socks over the cuff of her dark blue skinny jeans, trapping the warmth and soothing her spirit. For the first time since she'd thought him lost to her forever, Michonne felt peaceful. Blissful even. Rick was _home_.

Rick leaned down to drop a kiss on the deep chestnut ringlets crowning his son's head, greedily inhaling what he now knew to be RJ's singular scent. Giving himself a moment to find the right words, he pulled Judith closer to his other side, smiling as she sank against him and released on contented sigh.

"Mom didn't _know_ RJ," Judith tenderly began, leaning over her father to clasp RJ's little hand in hers. " _No one_ knew or we would've rescued Dad. Right?"

Michonne watched Rick give Judith a grateful nod, heart clenching as she choked down a sob, instantly drawing a look of worry from Rick.

He'd been home for three days now and yet, she couldn't stop wondering if _all of_ this wasn't some mystical aberration to appease her broken heart's greatest wish. After all the stories she'd told Judith and RJ about their father and brother, perhaps she'd simply dreamt Rick back into existence.

 _If this is just a dream, I'll savor every minute_.

When the alarm rang days ago, she and Siddiq rushed from the winter garden, ready for battle. She'd halted just as they rounded the corner and he came into view. There he stood. A filthy, road-matted beard, skin ruddy and frostbitten, unkempt curls nearly reaching his shoulders. Instinctively, she _knew_ it was Rick, even though she knew it _shouldn't_ be him.

That day, Rick's disbelieving eyes locked on her form as she raced towards the gates. She was thinner than he remembered. And even from a distance, he could tell misfortune had stolen some of the joyful lightness from her eyes.

He'd suffered too, the years a threat to his will to live. But, he was _home._ And his life's mission would be to return her eyes' former luster, the thing he'd dreamt of each night he'd been away.

They'd spent the subsequent days stuck to his side, afraid he could be lost to them yet again. Now, he sat with his children on either side of him, rubbing his bare chin, and watching Michonne as she rose from the hearth and joined them on the couch.

She'd been studying him too. Noting how rough, fine lines appeared in the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled. Or how his very presence resulted in laughter raining through their home for the last few days, electrifying the air.

Today had been another perfect day. He and Michonne had spent much of the afternoon on their porch, huddled together to keep warm, whispering declarations of love. They'd paused only when Judith and RJ insisted they too enjoy the freak two-foot snowstorm that had blanketed Alexandria, turning her streets into a tranquil scene from a snow globe. They couldn't possibly say no, not when moments like these were more than either could have hoped for.

Eventually, the setting sun and plummeting temperature led them back into the house for dinner, before, like every night since Rick's return, they snuggled on the sofa to share stories in front of the comforting fire.

Rick leaned back against the plush couch cushions, sighing deeply as he quickly scanned the room, hunting for all visible changes to their home in his absence. A battle-weary hand found its way to the back of the sofa and around Michonne's shoulders as she too leaned back and turned to catch his eye.

Of course, there'd been changes. The world doesn't stop just because you're lost. Hungry eyes frantically separated the new from the familiar. Christmas trinkets covered the mantle, stockings stuff and ready for the next day. A new candy apple red rug lay under the coffee table. The walls in the kitchen and dining room a darker hue than he remembered.

"Judy's right," Rick finally drawled, looking at Michonne. "Mommy didn't know. But I'm here _now_ and I ain't goin' anywhere."

Rick ran his fingers through boy's wild, glossy curls as those shy yet curious dark metallic brown eyes he'd instantly fallen in love with gazed back up at him. He was in awe of this mocha replica of his first born.

His mind drifted to the one agonizingly missing from the picture. Carl. The pain lingered, never quite leaving him, merely rearranged into more manageable, palatable pieces.

Judith was a revelation, looking so much like Lori. From the long, lean delicate body to the bone-straight, toffee-colored tresses. But she was stronger and braver than any 10 year should need to be. She was articulate and not afraid to speak her mind. She was thoughtful and caring and _so_ gentle with RJ that it had brought tears to his eyes. Seeing Michonne's traits so brilliantly displayed in Judith's being amazed him.

Rick leaned forward, catching Michonne's eyes as he began adding to the story he and Michonne had begun weaving to bridge their time apart. Judith, holding Michonne's hand as she leaned against her father, enthralled as he shared his life since last seeing his baby girl.

They talked about Carl, RJ's questions focusing on his unknown brother's bravery, while Judith's on what Carl might have thought of her if was here now.

 _He would have been so proud of you_.

He and Michonne regaled them until the pace of questions slowed, replaced by quiet, reassuring breaths emanating from both children.

* * *

Tucking them into bed, Rick threaded his fingers through Michonne and led her back to their bedroom. Having all slept in the same bed for the past two nights to reassure Judith and RJ,= – and themselves – this was their first _true_ moment alone.

They were tentative at first. Years apart hadn't dampened desire, but caused some forgetfulness of how to play their once familiar orchestra. She giggled as he walked them towards the bed, stopping only when the backs of her legs touched the mattress. Nervous energy caused tremors throughout her body.

Rick was more outwardly controlled, but anticipation brought a tightness to his chest and twitching to his fingers. Reaching for her, he began unbuttoning the light blue denim shirt, finding comfort, mixed with sadness, in the fact that she'd not only kept everything he'd touched, but used it to get through the more turbulent times of their separation.

She dropped her arms as he pulled the shirt down her sides, watching as it pooled at her feet. She reached out to touch his chest, her fingers skating over the firm lean muscle belying his considerable weight loss. She pulled the white t-shirt over his head, taking in the macabre tapestry that dotted his chest. Cuts and burns and indents, giving a visual to the torment he'd survived.

Impatiently, he unbuckled her belt and yanked her zipper down. She leaned into him, allowing Rick to wrap his hand around her waist, grazing the horrific scar she'd endured. His ire rose, rage clutching his throat at not having been there to protect her.

She felt his mood shift. Not wanting to talk nor think of the past, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her jeans, pulling them down her legs and kicking them completely off with her feet, before dragging her dark gray tank top over her head.

His eyes scanned her wondrous body, taking in the smooth, still shockingly silky expanse of skin illuminated by the candles scattered around the room.

He yanked his T-shirt over his head, before pulling her to him, groaning as her mahogany nipples brushed against his bare chest. He leaned down to taste her, reveling in that special flavor only she possessed.

She gasped as he delicately laid her onto the bed, covering her body with his. He propped himself on his elbow, looking down at her beautiful face as his calloused palms slowly worked their way down her torso and into the elastic band of her panties.

He paused for a moment, wanting to make sure he could proceed; she responded by lifting her hips and coaxing his hands into her panties.

His fingers carved a trail across her mound, never veering until he reached the wet folds awaiting him. He gently stroked her bud, instantly causing her to pitch off the bed as her legs shook. Anticipation burned her alive.

"Please," she implored.

Her hand quickly made its way between them, where she opened the buttons of his belt-free jeans and pushed them, along with his boxers, down his ass with her feet.

She didn't wait for his response before gripping his length and giving it a firm squeeze; he shuddered as a raspy moan escaped his lips. Neither would last at this rate.

She spread her legs, raising her hips as she tugged him to her entrance, letting go as he pushed in with a sigh, stilling for a moment as he read her reaction. There was ecstasy in the agony of waiting.

Finally, he moved, rocking into her as spasms overtook her body. There was no awkwardness as she had feared, just lovers returning to the melody both had immediately remembered.

Rick huffed an unsteady breath, vision blurry as Michonne wrapped her long legs around his waist, wanting to be even closer, even though there was no discernible space between them.

Labored breathing echoed through the room. It had been too long, the craving too great. Excruciating pleasure washed over her first; he soon followed, the explosion taking his breath.

Kicking his pants down his legs and onto the floor, he turned onto his back, pulling Michonne with him. She reached up for another kiss, before laying her head onto his chest, content to feel the glorious sound of his heart beating in rhythm with hers.

They were still, basking in the serene silence enveloping the room and filling their hearts. Neither believed in miracles, but it was Christmas Eve and here they were. How could their reunion not be divine?

"How'd you do all this alone?" he rasped, rough fingertips gently tracing the raised, rubbery scar marking her lower back.

"How did _you_?" she murmured, warm hands flitting across the deep cuts covering his chest.

"Your love," he replied, kissing her forehead and wrapping an arm around her. "And a _whole_ lotta faith."

She lifted her head, seeing in his eyes all he– _they'd_ lived through. All of it worth it just to be in this moment with him.

"Me too," she smiled, closing her eyes and laying back onto his chest. "Merry Christmas Rick."

"Merry Christmas sweetheart."

* * *

A/N: For those thinking the opening line sounds familiar, well done! It's Carl's line as he sits around the fire with Rick, Lori and the original TF after Rick finds them. I like the symmetry of RJ saying it now. It's one of my favorite scenes in the entire show and the way Chandler says it breaks my heart every single time.


End file.
